Different ways to Fall
by Miarka
Summary: "There are different ways to fall, there's physical falls, and then there's the fall I've been taking for you, Alexandria." A decade after the events in the movie a now eighteen years old Alexandria goes in search of Roy. They changed each others lives before, are there still any changes to come? Alexandria/Roy. Alexandria's POV. Please read and review. Enjoy.
1. Roy

**A couple of weeks ago I saw the film The Fall for the first time after hearing loads about it (mostly from all the gifsets on tumblr). I was pleasantly surprised, it's not only beautifully shot, costumed and cast but also a very meaningful movie and ****deserves more attention. **

**After seeing the film I went to read the fanfics on it that I could find, and became inspired to write my own. Above all I loved the relationship between Roy and Alexandria, it's so beautifully genuine and believable. I know it might be a bit weird to turn them into a pairing, but I'll do my best.  
**

**So without further ado, welcome to my first The Fall fanfic; 'Different ways to Fall', please enjoy!**

* * *

The journey has taken me two hours. Or is it ten years? My imaginative mind has never left me, and even as I stand here at the ripe age of eighteen my thoughts still try to push creative ideas through everything I see. I'm not a little girl anymore. Not that I want to be. Or do I? I've felt so torn recently, and I'm certain this dreamy little hope I have is the only answer.

The baby-blue coloured bus that took me in the early morning from the orange grove that is my home to Hollywood pulls away. The other passengers exit and scatter in many directions, getting on with their busy and bustling lives. But somehow I just can't seem to do the same.

I had dosed for most of the journey with my head pressed up against the murky window. But now fluffy clouds patter across a sapphire blue sky as the morning sun streams down onto the sidewalk I stand alone on. Facing me across the boulevard is the colossal Warner Brothers studio. I suck in a huge gulp of warm air and pull my brown leather satchel further up onto my shoulder and start my way across the road to the studio entrance.

As I walk I find myself questioning how on earth I came to decision to be here now. Of course it's not all about my emotions; I'm here on business too. But I start to wonder if I'm just thinking this in denial? Why I'm coming on business is technically because of my emotions.

I start to think back to the very beginning; ten years ago, when I was a little girl with only one working arm. Over the years the memories have become blurred. Mother has mentioned the hospital over the years. But now I cannot remember what it looked like, big or small? What were the beds like? I remember there were some nice people, but I can't remember what they looked like just that they belong to a building I also can't remember the appearance of.

But among all the faces that must have been in that Hospital there is only one person I will never forget. Roy. I can always bring back the memory of his face, and pinching his toes, and his words. When all other things of my childhood become blurred his words will always stick true and clear in my mind, as if he is standing beside me and telling them to me all over again. Words about strength and saving souls, and Alexander the Great, but best of all is the words about The Masked Bandit and the people he knew. I find it impossible to believe it's been ten years since he spoke those words to me.

My broken arm healed and I was gone from the hospital long before Roy was on the way to recovery. I only found out he'd healed when I saw him in the pictures. In the holidays Mother used to take me and my sister Gabriel to them and then I'd see Roy, only for a second or so, he'd be narrowly avoiding a train, or taking a hit by something dangerous, or climbing high up among many tall building the likes of which we don't have at home. And then the second would pass and he'd be gone, replaced with the face of the star of the show. I've never went to the pictures to see the famous faces but while growing up seeing Roy was always a comfort, even if it was only on screen and never for real.

But the years passed and with them I grew older, and Mother needed me to help her more often in the grove now that Gabriel and I were strong enough too, between that and my lessons my visits to the theatre became less. And Roy became more of a memory than a presence in my life through the silver screen. Still I never forgot his words, especially his epic tale.

Some nights after lessons and then further work tending and gathering oranges out in the fields I would come home to find sleep not agreeing to me, so I would tell myself just a little part of Roy's story every night, perhaps subconsciously I was trying to keep his presence in my life alive. And that's how I came to write the story down. Night after night I would set a candle by my open window and pull my bed sheets over me, forming a tent reminding me of the white drapes the hung around Roy's bed in the hospital. And I would handwrite the tale of the Masked Bandit down on paper I'd taken from spare books at school, word for word, exactly as I remembered it as he told it to me, persevered forever in my mind and on paper.

Then came my eighteenth birthday and I hadn't been able to go to the movie theatre for years, both money and work were hard after '29. But Mother let Gabriel and me and some of the other girls from the grove go into town and have a meal in a restaurant and to go see one of the new Talkies. We went to see the film, and there was Roy. And I realised it would soon be ten years since I took that fall which brought me to him. I couldn't believe he's still acting. Shouldn't he be too old for such dangerous work now?

I finished writing the story two months later, and then I spent hours after lessons had ended still in school to use the typewriter. Finally satisfied that I'd got the epic right, I've arrived in L.A. with an appointment with a book publisher tomorrow. Just one thing remains to be done, after all only part of the tale in mine.

The last film I saw Roy in was made by the Warner Brothers Studios, with any luck he's still working for them now. This is ridiculous, I tell myself for the umpteenth time as I stand before enormous entrance to the studio. But no matter how many times I think it I still don't change my mind. Past the gates I find a small building with large glass windows and I can see security men sitting inside. A twinge of nerves volts through me but I've come too far and waited too long to turn back now. I walk up the few steps and knock twice on the side of the open door.

The security men all glance up at me, most of them stare at me with blank faces but the oldest of the team, apparently the leader indicated by the gold badge he wears unlike the others, spreads a warm and welcoming smile across his face.

"Something I can do for you, kid?" He asks kind-heartedly.

"Yes." I answer with a twitch of a smile on my face and I cross the room to where he sits. The other men all go back to their work with bored expressions on their faces. "I'm looking for Roy Walker; I have some business to discuss with him."

"Roy Walker." He repeats, testing out the name. "What department does he work in?"

"Stunt work, I think." I add the 'I think' lamely onto the end, partly because I don't want to make trouble for him, partly because I don't want to get my own hopes up. What are the chances the Roy still works here, and is in the studio today, and has the time to see me? "To be honest, I'm not even certain he still works here. It's just the last thing I heard." I blurt out, more for my own fears than anything to help the chief of security.

He throws me another kind smile and stands slowly up. "I'll check are records." He says and walks briskly over to a shelf of folders lining the one non-windowed side of the room.

I wait while he flicks through a large folder practically hearing the scoffing smiles of the security guards behind me. This may be Hollywood, but I don't suppose they have a strange young lady walk into their station all that often.

"Ah." The chief cries. "Here we are."

My heart skips a beat. I want to dash over to read the information he's found in the folder but I find my legs entirely weak, it seems to take eternity for me to walk over to where he stands with the open folder.

"Yes, Roy Walker." He says, jabbing a finger into the file.

I peer cautiously over to look at the information.

"Says in his schedule he's due in today, filming in studio eight." The chief continues.

I force the large lump that's appeared in my throat back down again. After all these years I'm finally going to see him again. "Can I go see him?" I managed to squeak out.

"Now then, slow down a minute there, kid." My incredible helper replies as he snaps the folder shut and gives me a comically stern glare. "Your Mister Walker is doing big business up in studio eight; I can't let anyone go wondering in."

I just stand there in a daze and contemplating the fact that he just remarked Roy as being mine. He carefully places the file back in the right place and strides over to one of the desks lining the room and I follow after him.

"Now then, I'll call up one of our boy scouts and see if he can take you over to see Mister Walker during his lunch break, they're not really boy scouts that's just the name we have for them because security guards makes them sound tougher than they really are, they're not bad lads actually."

He twirls a number into the phone as I wait with held breath and listen to one half of the conversation.

"Hello there, Charlie. How's the job keeping you? Good, good." The chief continues on with his small talk for a minute or so. "Listen I've got a young lady here. Miss...?" He glances up at me with a questioning face.

"Carmen." I tell him my surname promptly.

"...Miss Carmen. She says she's got some business to discuss with Roy Walker, one of our stunt lads. Are you free after midday, kid?" He asks, holding the phone receiver below his chin and shooting me another glance.

I nod quickly at him, I had planned nothing for today.

"I'm wondering if you could take her over to see him during the lunch break?" The chief continues, talking into the phone once again. "Studio eight is scheduled to have lunch break at 1:30. Will you take her over to the cafeteria there? Thanks Charlie."

He puts the phone down and I stare expectantly at him.

"Charlie says he'll take you to Studio eight's cafeteria in about three hours. Come back here then and he'll pick you up, kid." He tells me.

I agree to his terms and thank him and scuttle out the door as quickly as possible for fear that if I stay any longer I'll give him a bear hug and bust into happy tears.

* * *

The ten years that I've spent without Roy physically in my life seem to have sped by compared to the crawling speed the next three hours seem to take.

I sit in a cafe across the street from the studios watching the world go by and drinking cup of tea after cup of tea. I know I should eat something; after all I skipped breakfast this morning to get the bus, but my stomach feels like its left me, along with my lungs and my heart and every other vital organ in my body. I feel as if I'm one of the wispy clouds above my head. Floating, and waiting, waiting to go somewhere, waiting for these three hours to end.

Finally my time comes up and I tug my black coat that I wear loosely on my shoulders like a cape over my shawl and dash across the road. I'm early, leaving for me to stand awkwardly in the middle of the security guard's station as the minutes slide by, until a shadow cuts away the light streaming in from the door and we hear a brisk tap.

"Ah, Charlie. Good to see you, lad." The chief says as he looks up and across at a man in similar uniform about ten years younger than he is.

Charlie smiles brightly and marches into the room.

"Miss Carmen, Charlie Billson." The chief says and throws his hand out to indicate each of us as he says our names.

Thankfully the two guards spare me from my anxiousness with time with very little small talk unlike their conversation on the phone. Before too long Billson and I are leaving the security station and he shows me to a little vehicle, like the golf carts I've seen on post cards. I get into the passenger's seat and we drive away. The studio is very active, there are women walking about in elegant ball gowns and a cigarette in their hand, burly men carry pieces of hard card with paintings of a far off landscape on them from studio to another, but I only take fleeting looks at them, my mind is on the place we're speeding along to, and the person that's going to be there.

When we arrive I hop off the 'golf cart' and take in my surroundings. I'm standing at the top of two steps, descending into a circle full of tables nailed to the floor with large umbrellas open above their heads. On the left side of this circle a small building that has open double doors all along its front side and people both in peculiar costumes and normal fashions stream in and out of the doors carrying food or clean plates on trays to and from the tables and the building. On the right side across a small road a towering building stands with a large number eight sign stapled high on its front wall.

Billson picks his way through crowd and I float after him. "Roy Walker." He calls and strides with ease over to a man and stands before him, blocking him from my view. I'm left to drive my way through the horde.

"Miss Carmen." Billson is just saying to the other as I turn up and with that he strides off with an equal look of ease as before.

I turn my eyes down to the person sitting at the table. I'm well prepared for this moment, or at least I was. My mouth parts open slightly and I just stare for a few seconds at him. Roy. Ten years on. Ten years? I wouldn't know it. The fact that he sits now with legs firmly bent in use is the only thing that shows the passage of time in him. No wait, I realise as I study his face. If anything he appears better. Somehow there is more, warmth in him. It sounds a silly description, but it's true. His eyes are deeper, his lips have more color in them, and his face looks warmer. This is not the broken soul I first met in a hospital all those years ago. I fixed that.

He is half dressed in the costume I presume is for the film he's working on today, but he wears a plain white T-shirt, like the ones American soldiers wear, underneath.

"Miss Carmen?" He asks politely as he looks up at me.

I do my best to compose myself, even though all the organs that I seemed to have been missing for the past hours have returned. My heart defiantly has a least; it's beating so hard, fast and loud that I can barely think. I sit down opposite him at the table, slinging my satchel off and holding it on my lap. "Hello Roy." I finally manage to utter out.

"Is there something I can do for you?" He questions.

"Yes." I mumble in reply and force my eyes away from him as I fumble with the clasp of my satchel, I find it much more difficult than I usually would but not looking at his face helps and eventually I calm myself down enough to open the bag and pull out a thick pile of paper held in a leather folder and place it on the table before him. I have to meet his eyes again, this time thankfully with a little confidence.

He looks from the leather encased story to me. "Is this a script? Because I'm afraid you've come to the wrong person, Miss-"

"No." I cut him off, growing greater confidence in the satisfaction of doing so. "It's not a script. I will, no matter what, allow this to be adapted into a picture. I want people to use their imagination when this is read."

"A book?" He questions and stares at me as if he's trying to make up his mind if I'm insane or not.

"Will you please just read it? Even just the title page?" I beg, and stare down at the leather folder because I can't look into his eyes any longer. His gaze is so penetrating.

I hear a noise that sounds like a mix of a cough and a small laugh escape his lips before he draws the folder towards him and pulls the elastic ribbon off it and opens it up. My eyes flash back up to his face now that his focus is on the paper inside the folder. I scrutinise his eyes closely as their gaze flickers across the title page of our story. The tale has been carefully written up on a typewriter, but the title page is the one thing inside that is handwritten in my proud and elegant hand.

_The Adventures of the Masked Bandit_

_A Novel_

_By Alexandria Carmen_

His pupils dilate as the realisation clicks into him. He lifts his gaze from the paper and black ink to meet my own eyes and his mouth drops open as he stares at me in disbelief.

"Hello Roy." I repeat and give him the same widespread and warm smile I used to give to him as a little girl.

"Alexandria, from the hospital?" He gasps.

I nod my head firmly. "Yes."

"You...you're a woman." He stammers out.

I suddenly realise the most stupid and obvious thing. All this time I've been wondering about Roy and his changes after all these years. I never once spared the thought of how I will have changed to him. And I have changed.

I glance down at myself as I sit in the chair. I've grown tall. I still wear my hair in two braided pigtails, but my hair is substantially longer, just below my waist. I have a full set of teeth, though there is a noticeable gap between the front two, but I've never minded. The white blouse and swing skirt I have the shirt tucked neatly into beneath my black coat and the traditional shawl tied around me show the curves I've developed, plus considerable length of my legs. I splash a little bit of make-up on my face now, but I used my very best lipstick today for the city. Even my accent lingers only a little now, in the way I finish my sentences. I've been surrounded by many other voices over the years, and thus my own voice has altered. All in all Roy is right. I'm not the little girl he knew anymore. I'm a woman.

"Yes." I answer as I look back up at him and smile, showing my complete strength. "I suppose I am now."

At long last he remembers to shut his mouth and he keeps it firmly closed for a moment, he just sits opposite me and looks over the changes. I'm happy enough to just here and watch him myself. I can tell he's thinking hard on everything that's happened, where we are now, and where it began all those years ago.

"I can walk again." He says finally.

"I know." I reply. "I came to see you."

He stares at me, confused.

"In the theatre." I add.

"Ah." He sighs and sits back into his chair a little more. "You saw my films?"

"Yes. I'm surprised you stuck at it for this long actually." I admit, looking down. It strikes me the fact that Roy refers to the pictures as 'his films', I can remember his words about them when I told him I'd never seen one. _You're not missing much._

When I look back up at him he's not smiling at me, but somehow I can see the smile in his face. His eyes are looking at me in an adoring fashion, there's the tiniest quiver at one corner of lips, and his head is slightly tilted to the left. It makes me feel like I'm a little girl with her arm in a cast sitting beside him in the hospital all over again.

"Can I tell you a secret, Alexandria?" He asks softly.

I beam at him, I know he remembers too. "You know I'll always keep your secrets, even when they torture me with needles." I say dramatically.

He sighs again and nods. "To be honest, I think the real reason I'm not working behind the camera yet is because of you. I've had this absurd little dream that you might happen to see me in one of the pictures. Even though you're not supposed to see me, they always try to cover me up as the star of the show. But I liked to hope that you'd seen me, just for that split second, and then you might remember me."

"I...I could never forget you." I stammer out. I'm stunned, his secret is so genuine and beautiful, and it's strange that I've been going to the pictures all through my childhood just to see him and now to find out that's what he wanted. It's like we never did miss each other these past ten years. "And I guess now you have permission to retire, because I've seen your pictures." I add as a joke because he's watching me with such joy that I'm sure it'll give me a heart attack.

Thankfully it works and he bows his head as he chuckles. "What are you doing here?" He asks lifting his eyes to me again after a small pause. "You just emerge back into my life after ten years. Why?"

I lean forward and point to where my name is written on the title page. "It says by Alexandria Carmen, but it's not just my story. I have an appointment with a book publisher tomorrow, but I wanted to try and find you before then. I want your name credited as writer as well."

"You want me to become a writer?" He asks as if I'm half-mad.

"Well, I did just say you could retire from stunt acting." I joke. "In all seriousness though, I've already written up the book, I spent the last two years doing so. But I want the book credited as being a joint partnership if it's published, written by both of us. After all you did come up with the story, I just typed it up."

"I came up with most of it. You are part of the story too." He reminds me.

"True. But it was probably for the best, your ending will not sell copies." I retort playfully.

He smiles. "I'm glad you changed the ending."

His mouth is left open; as if he means to say something more, but then he shuts it firmly closed. I understand nonetheless. If I hadn't changed the ending of the story for him, he would have ended himself with it as well. I might have become a little girl with a broken soul like the one he'd had, because I'd lost my friend.

We sit there in silence, completely at ease with each other, for a few seconds. Suddenly the ring of a bell concludes an end to our conversation. All at once the many cast and crew members that surround us stand, bin any remaining food and start slowly filing their way through the large double doors into Studio eight.

"Ah." Roy sighs in annoyance as he looks around at the masses of people leaving, but he makes no quick attempt to stand. Instead he gazes over at me, the intent watch in his face again. "Come with me."

"What?" I gasp.

"Come back with me to the studio, I'll find you a place to watch until I'm finished."

"Are...are we allowed to do that?" I stammer.

"Ah, I've been working for them long enough, they won't mind so long as you behave yourself. Can you do that for once?" He says, giving me the eye.

"No stealing anything, you got it." I say and smile. I know he remembers how mischievous I was as a child.

We get up together and push through the crowd to where Billson waits by the cart.

"Miss Carmen will accompany me into the studio." Roy explains.

Billson gives a suspicious look between the both of us but says noting. He gets into the cart a drives away. Roy turns to me and smiles. He slips his hand into mine and leads me in the direction of the others through the doors of the studio. Somehow holding his hand is the best thing yet since I found him again. It a wonderful feeling to know that he's physically back in my life again.

* * *

**So that's the first chapter. Please tell me what you think.**

**I'd like to thank ICanSeeYourFace for her beautiful fanfiction 'Where I Keep My Strength' which partly inspired me to write this in the first place. It's definitely worth checking out if you haven't read it yet.**

**Notes:**

**I don't usually write in present tense, but seeing as this is from Alexandria's point of view I want readers to feel like their travelling with Alexandria through the story, not knowing what's going to happen etc. Please forgive if I occasionally slip back in past tense.**

**Furthermore I'm actually from England, but again as this is Alexandria's POV she'd use American-English, which I don't, so apologies if I ever use the wrong word or spelling.**

**I read over all my stories, but I might miss some mistakes some time, hopefully it's not too obvious or distracting if there are any.**

**I don't believe Alexandria's age is ever specified in the film, but Catinca Untaru who played Alexandria was born in 1997 and film was realised in 2006, so I estimate that she was about eight years when the film was shot, so I made Alexandria the same age for the events in The Fall.**

**Well I think that's about everything. Please review, I need some advice seeing as this is just the first chapter and I haven't been a fan of the film for long, so any comments are very much welcomed.**

**Thanks for reading, I'll have the next chapter up as soon as possible.**


	2. Small town girl, big city

Roy leads me quietly along one side of a large concrete room. I can tell it's large but the height of the roof and length of the walls but I see little of what is in the center of the room, which is mostly blocked by the back of large sheets of card stabled onto wooden beams. There are fold up chairs and very complex and expensive looking equipment scattered around the place but I only catch glimpses of them as Roy guides me through the labyrinth of things.

He ushers me through a side door and up a double-flighted staircase, flanked by the small gray concrete wall on each side. Eventually we reach a small door with a wooden sign on it reading 'Lighting Room'. Roy knocks briskly on the door twice and drops my hand before entering.

"John?" He asks, poking his head round the door.

"Roy? What are you doing up here? Not that I'm not happy to see you, but don't they want you on set? You're going to be late you know." An older gentleman with a stiff stand but a kind face remarked.

"I know, but I was doing if you could do me a favour?" He explains and beckons me in.

I creep fully into the room and glance around shyly. It's a small room with concrete walls like the rest of the place. At one wall there are two large windows, a bit like the ones in the security office I was in this morning, I cautiously cross over to the window and peer out. It looks over the studio, from here I can see down into the mass of paper paintings strung up to create a set, all the people milling about rehearsing or setting up equipment. It's unlike anything I've ever seen before.

"John, meet Alexandria. Alexandria, meet my friend and colleague, John." Roy says, gesturing to each of us in turn.

I put my attention on the man properly for the first time and it suddenly hits me that I've seen him before, I could say I've even met him. He's the pirate. Well he's not actually a pirate, I know that now, but sometimes he was a pirate, and I remember when he was a cowboy in the same flicker that brought Roy to me. The one legged stunt performer.

For a moment I'm confused. Shouldn't he be working in front of the camera with Roy than in this tiny room? Then I realise he must be retired from stunt work now, its ten years and the burden of age must have come upon him, he's still working in Hollywood but now it's behind the camera. I try to remember his appearance in the hospital as I look at him, but it's an old memory. The moustache is the same, except that it now has many flecks of gray in it, as with his hair. He walks with a large swing on one leg, indicating the fake attachment at the stump of his knee is still there. He wears a causal buttoned-up shirt and brown trousers fixed with a belt, much alike the other two workers in the room who thankfully appear friendlier than the majority of the security guards this morning.

"How do you do, Miss." John says sticking out his hand to me. He glances away from me and looks to Roy as he speaks with a suggestive gaze in his eyes.

I take his hand and shake, he has a firm grip.

"Alexandria, why don't you go sit down over by the window?" Roy asks.

The phrasing of the question makes him sound like a parent trying to get their young child to behave themselves. Usually I don't do what I'm told, especially when someone asks me like I'm a little baby. But I do not refuse Roy. I obediently walk back over to the window and sit down on one of the several rows of benches that face out to the studio.

"Could she stay here for the afternoon, just until I finish?" I can hear Roy ask behind me.

"You have a lady-friend?" John whispers in reply. I try to make it look like I'm watching what's going on past the window, I'm clearly not meant to be listening to this. That doesn't mean I don't.

"Cut it, John. Please? I have to go."

I hear a sigh. "Alright, but just for this afternoon, as soon as the shoot's done she's got to be out of here."

"Take her down to the shacks when it's over. Thanks John." Roy replies quickly and apparently cuts the conversation before John has time to reply.

"Hey." Roy says as he sits down next to me quickly and looks at me.

"Hello again." I reply, turning my head away from the window and looking at him with a smile.

"Listen, I really need to go. But John will take you out of the studio once we're done for the day. Can you wait in here for me?"

"Sure." I reply.

"You behave yourself now." His teases and taps my nose.

"Honestly, I'm not a little girl anymore. I can behave myself." I say, cheekily.

A very broad smile spreads across his face. "Alright, I'll see you later. I'll take you out to dinner."

I'm speechless, I suppose that's not a very big thing to go out to dinner in Hollywood, but I've never had anyone take me out to dinner before.

"Alright." He assures both me and himself as he stands and begins to walk backwards for the door. He takes one last glance at me, and I can see that adoring look in his eyes again, before he backs out the door and practically jumps down the stairs. I feel rather guilty as it's clear I've made him so late.

* * *

For the entirety of the afternoon I watch from the Lighting Room as Roy does take after take of fighting off a group of bandits, all of them dressed in ridiculous Roman costumes. Throughout my childhood I'd never really considered the outfits Roy wore in all his films, but now that I see him dressed like that in real life I realise how silly they always make him look.

When filming with the group of bandits is done, the set is changed around quickly. I can see Roy as he stands while someone fiddles about with his hair and make-up. He looks up to the room where I am and smiles, I don't know if he can see me through the thick glass window, but I smile back.

When set has been altered the real hard stuff begins. I watch as Roy and a number of other stunt men charge at an entire army, again and again. Then he takes a break as what I assume are the stars of the show repeat and charge into the battle, but this time the cameras are only interested in their faces.

Meanwhile the tasks that the people in the lighting room undertake become obvious to me. The room is filled with panels of buttons and switches around the room. They receive instructions through a microphone standing on one of the panels, and ferry answers back to the people in the studio. The room controls all the lights strung up in the studio. As I look around I realise just how many there are, countless bulbs on the roof, walls and set up on the floor, all connected by wires. Workers come in and out of the room all afternoon. Carrying clipboards and playing about with all the controls. Mostly it's the three men who were here when I came in. But I sit quietly and stay out of trouble in case a newcomer should enter.

Later in the afternoon one of the workers comes in carrying a tray of teas and coffees and Pirate John, as I decide to call him, brings a cup to me. He sits it down beside me on the bench which I obediently haven't moved from all this time.

He lets out a sigh. "I'm glad you're here. It gives me an excuse to stop for a moment."

I ask him to sit beside me and he does, I can see he's thankful to have a chance to.

"You used to do stunt work like Roy." I tell him after taking a sip of my tea.

I mean it as a fact, much the same way I once told that actor who was in the same film as Roy that he was 'Someone Famous', because I remember it and know it to be true. But he takes it as a question. "Yes, yes. But age caught up with me." He says and touches his fake leg with a thoughtful fondness. "But Roy on the other hand, well that man seems ageless."

I smile and nod in reply.

"Do you see Roy often?" He asks.

I glance up at him. "Only this morning." I reply. That's true, because otherwise, I haven't seen him for ten years.

Pirate John stares curiously at me and pauses for a moment. "I'm not sure if I should admit this to you, miss. But Roy, well he doesn't do women. I mean I don't ever see him with a woman, in the studio or out. I want him to find a girl, and I want him to be happy but he hasn't cared about women for years."

I look away shyly. He doesn't know who I am. And why should he? But I can't even begin to explain the relationship between Roy and I. If someone was to ask me if I love Roy, the answer is yes without thought. But it's not the love that a woman has for a man, nor is it the love you have for a very good friend. It's deep, it's understanding, I care for Roy. Even though he's been absent from my life for ten long years, it doesn't matter. I'm ready to die for him without question. That is how I love Roy. I know it sounds strange if I try to explain that to anyone, but it's so simple in my mind.

"I'm sorry to hear that." I finally answer. "But today is the first time I've seen Roy in ten years."

"You do look very young." He says, narrowing his eyes at me.

"I'm eighteen since three months ago." I reply.

His eyes widen. "You're the little girl that used to visit him when he was in the hospital after his first stunt."

I nod enthusiastically. "Does he talk about me?"

"He speaks very fondly and very often of a girl he refers to as his 'Little Bandit'. He holds you to account that he is alive today. I remember him in those days in the hospital, he'd lost his legs, and he'd lost his love. He had barely any will to live left in him."

I put my cup down and stand in front of the window to avoid showing how much I'm shaking. A feeling of joy overwhelms me as I learn that Roy has remembered me all these years after. Who else would he ever call a Little Bandit? I smile gently as I think on the nickname. "I saved him." I mumble softly, more to myself. How ironic, Roy had tricked me into helping to his end, yet ultimately I had saved him.

"I dare say you did." John replies.

I turn back to the bench and sit down again and take another sip of my tea. "Thank you."

He chuckles. "Thank you I should say, miss. Roy is one of our best stuntmen, let alone one of my own best pals." He drinks the last of his tea and then stands up. "Well I need to be getting on. Duty calls."

I raise the hand that holds my cup of tea as a gesture of goodbye and he goes back to work.

* * *

When the afternoon becomes late the studio finishes for the day. Roy is pulled off the set with the masses of other actors, extras and stunt performers.

Soon after Pirate John asks me to follow him and we leave the lighting room as the two other workers being to shut off some of the lights. We walk down the double-flighted staircase but instead of going into the studio I'm led through another door facing the stairs and along twisting and turning corridors, all with white painted walls over concrete gray, the passageways appear as a maze to me. At last we exist through another door and we're outside on a shorter road that's baking in the lukewarm late afternoon weather.

Facing me across the small strip of road, which appears to be lining the right side of the studio eight building from where I entered earlier, there is a collection of small hut-like buildings and very grand looking caravan trailers.

Pirate John leads me across the road and dives into the trailer park, which again appears like a maze to my eyes. This whole studio is a labyrinth with hundreds of smaller mazes inside itself.

"We call this area the shacks." John explains to me as we walk. "It's where all the cast get changed and have their make-up removed at the end of the day.

I simply nod in reply as I currently have all concentration on remembering where we've come from and how I will find my way out of this place.

"Here we are." John says as we reach a certain one of the huts, only one floor and made of white painted wood with no windows. There is carved bench sitting along one side near the open door, but all I can see is wall facing the entrance that must lead to somewhere.

"I must be going now." John tells me. "But you can wait here. I expect Roy will be out before too long, he'll want to see you."

"Thank you, for everything." I reply.

He shows a smile and understanding nod on his worn face. "It was my pleasure, miss, thank you." And with that he turns swiftly and strides off in the direction we came.

I turn and look around at my surroundings, now and again there are people milling about or going places, but they pay no attention to me. Going over to the wooden bench I lower myself onto it and wait, I take out my novel and skim through the pages, looking like I'm actually doing something.

What must be only a minute or so seems to slide by; I sit in anticipation, waiting for Roy. The usually raucous studio seems abnormally quiet, everybody seems to vanish from my presence, I'm half expecting tumbleweed to roll past me at any second, to hear a far off eagles cry; the only sound for miles. No that's just my imagination getting the better of my again.

After about ten minutes of this unbearable waiting I have the feeling I'm being watched. I glance up from my sheets of paper and look to my left. There stands Roy.

I jump up and pull him into an embrace without saying a word. There's something very comforting about holding Roy close to me, something that cannot be said through speech. Even his smell and the tiniest sound of his breathing is a promise to me.

As I finally move away I notice he's changed. He wears a pair of black brogue shoes and brown pants, there's a jacket slung over his open arm and his white button-up shirt reminds me of the same one he used to wear every day in the hospital.

* * *

Roy walks me out of the large studio entrance along the sidewalk; it feels strange to have him beside me, playing the girl leaning on a guy's arm, I've never had a boy offer that to me before. But at the same time it feels so comfortable, so right. We both seem to float along together into town instead of walking.

He takes me out to dinner, something else I'm not used to, it's a little friendly Italian on one of the many Los Angeles, but says this one is his favourite.

We talk our way through starters, the main course, and desert, and all the waiting gaps in between. I tell him all about home, and my family, and growing up. He doesn't like to linger on his own history these past ten years; apparently little has changed for him in these years. But he does share funny stories of everything he's seen while working; telling me the details of what goes on before the picture hits the silver screen.

We finished our deserts over an hour and our coffee cups are now empty. I suddenly come to the realisation that we are the only customers left in the restaurant, and most of the waiters have gone home too. The hour is late.

Roy sees me glance around and smiles. "Shall we call it a night?" He asks.

I look back at him and sigh. "I don't want to." I tell him honestly. Then my head jerks up as I remember something, my head now buzzing with excitement, the slight tiredness has all but faded away. "But there's one thing first." I explain.

I open up my bag and pull the leather bound pages and place it neatly between us.

"Do we have a deal then, Mr Walker?" I ask. "It is our story after all."

He smirks, but I think I see a hint of sadness in him too. "I don't want our story to end." He tells me.

I smile at him and reach out to take his hand as it lies resting on the table. His hand it mine feels as much as a comfort to me to as I hope it is to him. "Make this partnership with me and it doesn't have to be." I say softly.

He sighs and gives a shrug; I can tell he's given in to defeat. "Have it your way, Alexandria, you always did."

A genuine and wide smile spreads across my face, showing my white teeth beneath my fading lipstick. I can't believe he's agreed.

I take a fountain pen out of my bag, my best pen, and begin to write in my elegant hand on the title page. I'm not so happy when I've finished because my hand was shaking so much as I wrote. But as I let the ink dry I'm satisfied in the knowledge that these black markings on a white crisp sheet could ensure the friendship Roy and I for a long time.

The title page now reads:

The Adventures of the Masked Bandit

A Novel

By Alexandria Carmen

and

Roy Walker

With our business now complete we pay our bill, much to the relief of the tired waitress, and leave the restaurant.

"Do you have somewhere to stay the night?" Roy asks me outside on the sidewalk.

"I figured I'd walk along the boulevard till I find an open hotel." I explain. I'll admit that I'm city girl. I've only ever been to the outskirts of Los Angles before. Our family rarely has need for anything from the city, and if there is need my mother always sends Gabriel as she's the eldest.

He smiles, but I'm pretty sure he's hiding concern. "I have a spare bedroom in my apartment. It's only a short walk from here."

"I wouldn't want to intrude." I say shyly.

He steps a little closer to me and looks kindly at me. I'm not afraid. "You never have." He tells me with all honesty.

I believe him and offer my arm for him to take. "Thank you."

"Don't mention it." He replies with a wink as he loops his arm in mine and places a caring hand on it.

* * *

When Roy unlocks the door to his apartment we are greeted by scratching and sharp cries from a small fluffy creature at our feet.

"Alex! Down girl." Roy shouts as the little dog tries to push at us. "I'm sorry that you're hungry but we have guest with us."

She's gives up at her master's presence and sneaks back to a basket beside a coach in front of the window.

We are now free to get through the door without hassle. I take in my surroundings, Roy's apartment is of a decent enough size. The kitchen, dining room and lounge are all in one room, there are three doors on the right side of the room. It is a comfy space, if not a little empty. The walls are plain white, but the lounge carpet is a bright and soft red which brings some colour to the room.

I turn to look out the wide window, lights from the block facing us across the street are reflecting back in the glass. Then my gaze turns to the dog basket below where the little white and brow creature sits staring back at me as if to ask; _who are you, stranger?_

"You had a dog before." I say and turn to Roy. He's standing in the kitchen area, removing his coat and hanging it over a chair.

"Umm, yeah. Bobby died about three years ago." He replies.

"I'm sorry." I say as I make myself at home by shrugging off my coat and shawl and flinging them over another chair like Roy.

"It's alright. I got Alex almost immediately after, she's a Beagle, I've been raising her from a pup."

"Alex?" I ask, raising an eyebrow at him.

He gives an embarrassed look at me. "After a memory, I used to know a girl with a similar name. Alex has an attitude to match her too. She's giving it to me right now because I'm never home this late too feed her."

"It seems I've got you into some trouble." I smirk as I lean against one wall, arms folded and surveying the dog glaring at both of us.

"It wouldn't be the first time." Roy replies with cheek as he walks past me, a bowl full of dog food in his hands. "Here you go, girl." He says fondly as he places the bowl down by Alex's basket. She gives a small yap, clearly happy to get what she wants at last, and with that tucks into her dinner.

"I'll show you your room." Roy says, standing up after giving Alex a soft pat on her head.

I fetch my coat, shawl and bag and he leads me over to the door on the left side of the far wall and opens it. The room inside is small and fairly basic, white wallpaper decorated with fine blue lines adorns the room. There's a single bed with thick bed-sheets and a wardrobe in a corner beside the door. There are no windows on this side of the apartment.

"The bathroom is right next-door, between this room and mine. You think you'll be comfortable here?" Roy asks, leaning on the doorframe as I stand in the room and gaze around.

I say nothing, but without thinking turn and pull him into an embrace. He seems startled by my sudden actions at first but relaxes into the hug.

"Why are you so wonderful?" I whisper into his shirt. I don't know why this feeling came over me suddenly, most of the time nowadays I act professional and straightforward, but Roy turns me into something different. It's his simple gestures of kindness that tell me there's no one I've met quite like him, and that I must keep him.

"Only for you, Alexandria." He replies, I can tell his usual sweet smile is on his face, even though I'm not looking at it. "I'll leave you too it." He adds after we've pulled away.

I nod and set about arranging my things in my room. My room? Is it strange that I'm already thinking of it that way instead of being 'The spare room in Roy's apartment'?

I've packed very little for my journey. Growing up with a very basic farming lifestyle means that I travel light. I can wear a nightgown underneath my skirt and blouse, and my toothbrush and makeup can all be kept in a small overnight bag in my satchel.

When I'm all ready for bed I find myself standing outside the door of the only room in the apartment I haven't entered yet. Roy's room. I glance around, Alex is already tucked up under a blanket in her basket. Everything is still. For some reason the thought of knocking seems slightly ill to me. What's wrong with me? But it's only polite so do before entering.

Roy's room is more spacious than mine, with a large window alike the one in the lounge facing out on the same view. The wallpaper is covered in geometric swirls. His single bed has a red blanket covered over the white sheets. A wardrobe stands neatly along one side of wall, facing the window, and at the window sits an elegant desk with a small chair in front.

"Hello." I smile at Roy; he's sitting on his bed dressed in pyjamas. This view sets me back to the time when I was a child, and Roy used to have to sit like this all day long. Despite all the years between then and now, and the complete change of location, I'm dressed in a nightgown alike the dresses I used to wear as a child and Roy hasn't changed at all. From my point of view we're just the same as we always were.

"I wanted to give this to you." I say, walking into the room and holding out our story pressed between the brown leather file. "I thought you might like it for the night."

"Thank you." He replies sincerely as he took it from my hands. "Will you read it to me?" He asks.

I stare. "You want me to read it to you?" I ask in shock.

"Please?" He requests, staring back at me, his eyes sparkle with that adoration I've only seen when they look at me.

I let out a soft and calm sigh and take the leather file back from his hands and sit down next to him on the bed, swinging my legs over his and resting my head back against the pillow. If anyone were to see us now it would probably be weird, but for me it's natural. This is the way I always used to sit with Roy, a broken soul in a hospital bed, many things have changed but our funny relationship is the same to me as it was then.

I open the pages and begin to read our story, the story of the masked bandit. These words that Roy once spoke to me all those years ago, never forgotten, are now perfectly preserved on these white sheets of paper for both of us, and perhaps for the whole world too? I read and read, word after word, page after page, and time passes us by though I don't notice. Roy doesn't interrupt me; he just sits listening to my voice, a smile appearing on his face occasionally when I read a part he likes or a part he'd forgotten. Eventually though, I notice the tiredness come into his face and later his eyes begin to flutter. I continue reading, I'm not sure for how long, but ultimately my voice stops and I close the pages.

Roy does not protest, he's still awake but his eyes are already shut. I stand and place the closed file beside him on the bed-sheets. Without even having to think, I lean down and bestow a kiss on his forehead, only a small one, a peck of endearment, just like the ones I used to give as a child.

"Goodnight Roy." I whisper.

He mumbles something in reply.

A warm smile spreads across my face as I sneak out the door.

* * *

**So there's the second chapter up. Sorry, it took longer than I would have wanted.**

**First of all, thank you to every single one of you who have ****favourited/followed this story, but especially those that were kind enough to take your time to review, it really helps. ICanSeeYourFace, lezares77, Keiko-kohai and Z, you're all stars!**

**This story is Roy/Alexandria paring, and will eventually end up that way, but that's not going to happen for a while, I'd like to focus on their wonderful relationship as a friendship for the time being.**

**Finally, I need to apologise but life's a bit heavy for me right now, so I can't be sure how often I can continue this story. By all means I will be continuing it, but the chapters are very long and so take a long time to write. I will be updating but it may have to be over long periods of time rather than as regularly as I'd like. I'm deeply sorry for this, it annoys me too.**

**Please review and tell me what you've thought of this chapter. You're help and support is a blessing to any writer.**

**Thanks and Goodbye. **


End file.
